Marked. Claimed.They want me.
I look over at Jake and am knocked sideways by the heat that burns in his eyes. As if just the sight of my naked breasts is enough to make him want another round. But I also see the affection, and it’s that adoration that steals my breath.
“This is how it always started with us,” I say quietly, looking at the way he’s propped up on one elbow, watching me with those warm eyes that see too much. “You’d give me that look,” I point at his face, “we’d fuck like rabbits, and then you’d bring me food.”
“Yeah.” His expression softens, and I catch a whiff of his scent—chocolate going warm and sweet with emotion. “But this feels different, right?” he says, flopping on the bed and looking at the ceiling.
“So different.” I reach out, trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips. His stubble is rough against my skin, and he leans into the touch slightly. My Omega notices. Approves. Alpha wants our touch. “Better. So much better.”
He catches my hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to my palm. “I’m sorry I?—”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “We were kids. We did the best we could with what we knew. And look where we ended up.”
Before he can respond, the door opens. The scent of them, followed immediately by the smell of food, makes my mouth flood with saliva.
Charlie backs in, arms loaded with takeout bags, and my stomach growls again, louder this time.
“I told you I heard her!” Charlie turns, grinning, and the joy in his expression makes something in my chest squeeze tight. “Welcome back, Wills. We weren’t sure what you’d want, so?—”
“So we got everything,” Beau finishes, following Charlie in with even more bags, including my overnight bag from the car. Thai food, from the look of the containers, and the smell of curry and lemongrass mingles with the pack scent.
I stare at the growing pile of takeout on the dresser. “That’s… a lot of food.”
“Tacos and Chinese,” Charlie announces proudly, setting down his bags with the enthusiasm of someone presenting a prize.
“And I got Thai. Because apparently we’re feeding an army,” Beau adds, and there’s something in his voice—amusement mixed with fondness—that makes me look closer. His knuckles are still bruised, I notice. Still scabbed over from where he hit Felton.
The evidence of him defending me sends a spike of pure possessive satisfaction through my Omega.
“You guys are ridiculous. Tacos, Chinese,andThai? That’s the weirdest combination I’ve ever heard.” I can’t help it—I start laughing.
“Hey, we didn’t know what you’d be craving.” Charlie’s grin is unrepentant, his scent going warm with pleasure at making me laugh. “This way, you have options.”
“Options,” I repeat, still laughing, and my scent must be brightening because all three of them lean in slightly, drawn to the sound, to the happiness in my pheromones. “There’s no way I can eat all of this.”
“Never took you for a quitter,” Charlie says just as Beau adds, “Not with that attitude.”
Beau moves to the bed, settling behind me and pulling my freshly scrubbed nakedness into the cradle of his thighs. All that Alpha presence gives me shivers as he presses a kiss to my temple.
My Omega practically melts at the contact, at his scent wrapping around me. “But we’ll help. Come on, let’s get you fed.”
They arrange everything on the bed—a ridiculous spread of pad Thai and curry, along with tacos, orange chicken, and spring rolls. Jake helps me into one of their shirts—Beau’s, I realize immediately from how it swallows me and carries his scent right against my skin.
My Omega approves intensely. Wearing my Alpha’s clothes… yes, please!
I eat like I’m starving, while they watch with an intensity that should make me self-conscious but doesn’t. Charlie keeps passing me different dishes to try, his hand leaving a lingering touch on some part of my body.
Jake makes sure my water glass stays full, refilling it before I even ask. Beau sits with me wedged between his thighs, maintaining constant contact like he can’t bear to not be touching me.
I fucking love it.
“Willa,” Beau says quietly, and his hand wraps around my middle, pulling me impossibly close. I get the feeling I’m not going to like what he says next.
“We need to talk about what happened. About Felton.”
My hand freezes halfway to my mouth, taco suspended in mid-air. The food in my stomach suddenly feels like lead. My Omega goes still, tense, ready to flee or fight.
“You don’t have to,” Charlie adds quickly, and I can smell the worry in his scent now, the desire to comfort. “Not if you’re not ready. But?—”
